


All Wrapped Up

by anythingpastorpresent



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Play, Curtain Fic, Domestic, Infantilism, M/M, Pacifiers, Sibling Incest, blink-and-you-miss-it felching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 16:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2658752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingpastorpresent/pseuds/anythingpastorpresent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They settle down in some no-name town where no one knows they're brothers and only a few of their neighbors are outwardly homophobic, and Sam has never had domesticity, not like this. It's a million times better than he realized, but that probably has less to do with the actual life and more to do with who he's sharing it with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Wrapped Up

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently the only thing I'm good at writing is infantilism. So I'm thinking this is going to be a verse, but I'm not 100% sure yet. Hopefully I can write more, but if not, I think it works pretty well as a standalone fic.

They settle down in some no-name town where no one knows they're brothers and only a few of their neighbors are outwardly homophobic, and Sam has never had domesticity, not like this. It's a million times better than he realized, but that probably has less to do with the actual life and more to do with who he's sharing it with.

Dean had chosen between hunting and Sam; not that Sam had made or even asked him to choose, but Dean knew what hunting did to Sam and what would make him happy--and it's a part of Dean's very nature to always make Sam happy, so they bought a smallish one-story house together and gave up hunting forever.

The best part was when Dean had come home from work with a couple of matching rings and a sign that read "Winchester" to go on their mailbox. Dean had jokingly gotten down on one knee and slid the ring onto Sam's finger, but when Sam knelt down in front of Dean and kissed him it didn't feel much like a joke.

The house has three bedrooms, one of which has a queen-sized bed that is in a constant state of disarray, only because Sam fucks Dean forwards, backwards, and sideways on it every time he makes fun of Sam for being OCD about the tidiness of their room (and Dean makes sure to make fun of him a lot). The second room was converted into an office where Dean earned most of his degree in engineering (the rest was earned at a local university, and Sam called Dean "college boy" for "far longer than really necessary, bitch").

But the third room is different from the other two, and by far Sam's favorite.

 

Sam and Dean had picked out the soft yellow color for the walls together. It was soothing to Sam, which of course was kind of the point, but it also reminded him of the grass of empty fields they used to park beside in between hunts sometimes, sitting on the hood of the Impala, sharing beer and comfortable silence.

There are permanent salt lines inside the window sills and the door jamb, enochian sigils scattered beneath the wallpaper, and multiple devil's traps carved into the wood underneath the carpet, the biggest ones being in front of the door and Sam's crib.

He doesn't sleep in it much since it doesn't fit two grown men as comfortably as their own bed, so it's mostly used for time-outs (and the occasional nap), but that's okay with Sam.

He's not sure he can pick a favorite part of his nursery, but one of the biggest highlights is the changing table. It'd taken a couple weeks to get Sam diaper-trained, and it's a little uncomfortable when he's not in this headspace and has to go without, but it's worth it when Dean has him spread out and exposed on the sturdy surface. The changing table is where Dean dresses and undresses Sam, gets him ready for baths and playing and bedtime. It means intimacy and being taken care of, and Sam has known numerous orgasms from Dean's hands and fingers and tongue on that table. It's where Sam realizes that Dean probably knows his body better than Sam does, better than Dean knows his own.

~~~

Some days Sam likes to pick fights. It's always over pretty stupid and petty stuff, like Dean leaving the cap off the toothpaste or his utter inability to remember to actually write down messages he takes for Sam, but it's never important enough to last. But it gets Dean's blood pressure up, and Sam likes the intensity of Dean's narrowed gaze, the flush it brings to his own cheeks.

So yeah, Sam behaves like a brat sometimes, like the twelve-year-old Dean both loved and couldn't stand to be around. But his favorite bratty moment comes at feeding time, despite how much Sam loves these times.

It'd been hard, at first, to give up all control and let Dean do even easy things like feed him, but the soft rubber of the baby spoon Dean uses to feed him mashed everything feels good against his lips and he obviously likes feeling like a baby again - hence their new lifestyle - so he watches his cartoons and opens his mouth for Dean without taking his eyes off the TV.

But then the show ends and Sam decides Dean isn't feeding him fast enough, so he makes a whiny noise in his throat and wrinkles his nose and maybe bangs on the chair's tray a little, and Dean is quick to reprimand that sort of behavior quickly, putting the food down to grab the wet paper towel sitting on the tray to wipe Sam's face and hands. He unbuckles Sam from his chair and leads him to the nursery.

Dean gets Sam stripped and plugged and diapered pretty quickly, swatting Sam's hand away when it reaches for his soft cock. "You know the rules, Sammy," he says, and Sam maybe regrets his fit a little, until Dean has him swaddled nice and tight and is laying him out in his crib.

"We'll see, if you start being a good boy," Dean says, patting Sam's diapered groin softly and Sam knows that this is way more of a punishment than being left in time-out in his crib.

When Dean comes back, Sam is hard and leaking and misses his pacifier. Dean somehow knows and gets it for him before changing his wet diaper, and Sam sucks hard and shuts his eyes tight as Dean starts fondling his balls. Dean's hands are (one of) Sam's favorite things about his brother; their strength and warmth and ability to somehow just know exactly where Sam needs to be touched, even when he's not quite sure himself. It feels like teasing, but Dean's slow and steady pace as he fucks the plug in and out and rubs Sam's cock methodically soon brings him over the edge, and Sam comes with a soft cry.

"Ready to start being good now?" Dean asks. Sam takes the pacifier out of his mouth temporarily, leans his head forward and puckers his lips for a kiss, which Dean gives him readily.

Being swaddled isn't always a punishment. Sam's favorite time of day is when Dean wraps him up and settles him on the couch with his pacifier while Dean goes about the housework. The kitchen is open to the living room, so Sam can see Dean moving around the kitchen, hear him whistling and humming under his breath as he cleans. It makes him sleepy, but he fights it and waits for Dean.

It feels like forever before Dean is finished and curling up on the couch with Sam, Sam's head in his lap. Sam closes his eyes as fingers stroke softly through his hair, brushing the strands from his forehead and lulling him to sleep.

~~~

One night when Dean is five, Sammy won't stop crying. Dean can't sleep with all the noise, and John paces back and forth with the one-year-old in his arms, shushing and rocking him.

Eventually John gives up trying to get the baby to sleep with a bottle. He rouses a sleepy Dean from his bed, bundles Sammy up nice and warm, says "come on, baby boy," to Sam and gets them both in the car. Dean doesn't ask what they're doing, knows John can't leave Dean alone, especially with the thing that took Mommy away still out there. Dean sometimes has nightmares about it, a nameless faceless thing coming out of nowhere and taking Sammy and Dad away from him forever. But he doesn't talk about it, because John gets really sad when Dean talks about stuff like that.

Dean sits next to Sammy's carseat in the backseat of the Impala and holds his finger out for Sammy to grab onto. Almost as soon as John starts the car, Sam starts to quiet down. His cries cut off and he hiccups, shaking Dean's finger in his little baby fist. Dean reaches out with his other hand to wipe Sammy's tears away gently.

Sammy's asleep within a mile, and doesn't let go of Dean's finger until they're back at the motel.

 

When Dean is eighteen, Sam starts having nightmares every night.

Sam refuses to talk about them; except for one night he wakes up crying and immediately burrows himself into Dean's arms. When Dean asks, Sam just tells him it was different stuff, the job, this life. Mom. The next night he hears Sam say Dean's name in his sleep, pleading and scared and his face looks like it'll permanently be stuck in a frown.

Dean doesn't ever mention it.

The nightmares are troubling enough, but eventually Sam stops being able to fall asleep after they come.

One night Sam wakes up gasping, fresh tears streaming from his eyes and reaching out for Dean. Dean opens his arms and pulls Sam into them, making soothing noises as he rubs Sam's back. Sam doesn't stop crying, but eventually his breathing evens out.

Sam sighs and blinks up at Dean sleepily. Dean grabs the blanket from the bed, wraps it around Sam's shoulders and says, "come on, baby boy."

When Sam is snuggled up next to him in the Impala, Dean starts the car and Sam's asleep before the motel lights are gone from the rearview mirror.

 

At twenty-two, Sam isn't a baby anymore, but he's still Dean's baby brother, and it's still his job to protect Sammy from all kinds of danger - including nightmares. So it's like a physical blow to the chest when Dean can't do anything to help Sam. Jessica's death is still an open wound, and with every monster they kill, every step they take towards finding their father, Dean's sure it's like rubbing more salt into it.

When Sam gets his arm sliced up by a vengeful spirit with a hard-on for sharp objects, Dean's almost thankful, because at least the drugs he gives Sam for the pain will knock him out long enough for a full-night's sleep; Dean knows Sam hasn't had that since Dean stepped foot in Palo Alto.

But then Sam heals enough to refuse the drugs, and they're back to square one.

Sam's been crying in his sleep for the past thirty minutes, and Dean's been close to throwing a chair through the window for the past twenty-five. He's almost done packing up the guns when Sam whimpers, and that's it. Dean throws their bags in the trunk of the car and when he comes back into the room, Sam is sitting up in bed, head in his hands. He blinks at Dean blearily when he comes in.

"Come on, baby boy." Sam drags himself off the bed without question, and Dean doesn't feel bad at all about stealing the shitty motel blanket.

Sam doesn't curl up into Dean's side in the car anymore, but he presses his face into Dean's neck when Dean leans over to tuck the blanket around him. When Dean pulls away, Sam rests his head on the window.

They've been on the road about twenty minutes when Sam seemingly gives up on sleep and pulls out his laptop, Dean presumes to look for their next hunt. He doesn't get so far as booting it up before Dean pulls the car over on the empty stretch of road.

"Dean, what are you-" Sam gets out, but his words are muffled by Dean's mouth against his, and Dean uses his brother's momentary distraction to get the laptop away from him and into the back seat.

Sam pulls away, about to protest but Dean doesn't give him the chance. "I didn't shove you in the car to do more research and wear out that geek brain of yours, Sammy, so you're gonna sleep, whether you like it or not," he says, and sticks his tongue in Sam's mouth. Dean feels him hesitate, but then he feels Sam's tongue brush his, and knows that he's won.

Dean cradles Sam's head in his hands, and it isn't long before Sam's pliant and open beneath Dean's mouth, tongue stroking lazily against Dean's lips and teeth in retaliation to the one currently investigating his own mouth. Dean slides one hand underneath Sam's t-shirt, pressing it against his stomach, while the other hand sneaks down to unbutton and unzip Sam's jeans.

Sam gasps when he feels Dean's hand on him, curling around his cock and stroking once. His hips buck into Dean's hand. "Easy, baby," Dean murmurs, opening his eyes just in time to see Sam shutting his tight. Dean can practically feel the restraint Sam's using to keep still.

Dean pulls Sam out and looks down to see a milky white drop leak out the tip. He licks his lips and closes his hand around Sam's dick, lifting Sam's shirt with his other hand so he can press a kiss to Sam's stomach. Muscle clenches beneath skin beneath his lips, and Dean trails them down.

When Dean finally reaches Sam's cock, mouthing at the head, Sam gasps and clenches his hands into fists. As he edges Sam further into his mouth, Dean reaches out for Sam's arms, sliding his hands down until he reaches his wrists, and guides Sam's hands into his hair. The tug against his scalp pulls a moan out of them both.

With the feel of Sam's fingers tangled in his hair, Dean sucks, lowering as far as he can over Sam. His hands rest lightly on his brother's hips, more of a warning than any kind of restraint, but when Dean sucks harder and rubs his tongue over the vein on the underside of Sam's dick, Sam bucks his hips and Dean can't say he minds the burn as he chokes on his brother's cock. Sam comes down his throat, and Dean swallows all he can.

He pulls off with a pop and kisses Sam's lips, pushing the remaining come into his brother's mouth with his tongue, wanting Sammy to taste himself. Sam groans.

When Sam reaches for Dean cock, Dean simply swats him away. "I'm fine," he says, and though he's been half-hard since the minute he pulled over, he's been in worse situations, and he means it when he says he's fine.

"But Dean," Sam protests, and Dean gives him a look that's all big brother, shut your mouth now, Sammy, I'm serious, and tucks Sam back in and zips him up.

"I'm fine," he repeats, and Sam shrugs and goes back to leaning against the window. Dean puts the car in drive and pulls away.

They've been on the road less than five minutes when Sam shifts and stretches out as much as he can on the seat, head pillowed on Dean's thigh. Dean reaches into the glove box, grabs the spare pacifier there, and presses it against Sam's lips. His brother accepts it hungrily, bobbing it in his mouth a few times before his suckling evens out. Dean threads his fingers in Sam's hair, and Sam is out like a light before the sunrise.

~~~

The best part about Sam's nursery, aside from the fact that there's never been one single gun or knife or demon or angel inside of it, is that Dean'd had it - to the best of his ability - completely and totally fireproofed.


End file.
